Molyneux's Problem
by renaid
Summary: What happens when a man has his eyes opened to a possibility he had never considered before?  Could it change his life for the better or ruin what is already a good thing?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer – I'm not the almighty J.K. Rowling (all hail the almighty J.K. Rowling) and I don't own any of the stuff she gets paid royalties for. If I were her I'd have written a better epilogue, one where all the best people don't die. And also one where Hermione would never end up married to Ron. Honestly?

Author's Note – This is very EWE. It's probably compliant through Deathly Hallows, though with only a little likelihood of any spoiler mention. But I warn, just in case.

**Molyneux's Problem**

"_**Recovery from blindness**__ is the phenomenon of a blind person gaining the ability to see, usually as a result of medical treatment. As a thought experiment, the phenomenon is usually referred to as __**Molyneux's Problem.**__" – Wikipedia - .org/wiki/Recovery_from_blindness_

**Severus**

She has been many things to me over the years: student, irritant, fellow soldier, responsibility, apprentice, challenge, and, most recently, friend. I fought that last one, insisting I had no need for such a thing, mostly afraid of what it would mean to allow anyone close enough to me to call "friend". But the damned chit had already wormed her way into my life so insidiously that severing the bond was impossible without doing permanent damage to both of us. In the end it was easier to roll my eyes and sarcastically agree that we were friends. I've found l enjoy being her friend. It is exactly the kind of friendship I had hoped for when I began attending Hogwarts and, for reasons both within and outside of my control, never attained. It never even crossed my mind to want anything more from her, so comfortable am I being quietly nestled into a corner of her life and knowing that she values me as I value her.

And so it would have remained, I imagine, had it not been for what I accidentally saw one day which changed my perception of her forever.

Our typical interaction involved either experimental brewing at my home laboratory (usually confined to weekends when one had less pressing demands upon their time), brief trips to legendary libraries (also confined to weekends for though it was possible to travel to Alexandria and back in one day, one's employer often took offense at such non-work-related activities being conducted on company time), or, most often, quiet afternoons reading in front of her fire with full permission to interrupt one's companion to share whatever intriguing/absurd/shocking item had most recently caught your attention in the paper/journal/book you were currently reading. She once confessed to me during one of those lazy Sunday afternoons that when she was in school she craved our kind of friendship, where you could sit in comfortable silence for hours on end. Instead, she said with a self-depreciating laugh, she ended up with two boys who didn't know the meaning of "curling up with a good book". It warmed my heart to know I've met a need of hers, as she has met so many of mine.

The day that changed it all was a new experience for our friendship. We were meeting for coffee in muggle London and then going to attend a lecture at Tate Britain. We had only recently discovered a similar interest in art and so agreed to this outing as a way of broadening our horizons (her words, not mine). I was sitting at an outdoor table, having purchased both our preferred beverages (and feeling quite proud for knowing what she would enjoy without having to be told), watching the crowds flow around me.

I spotted her walking down the sidewalk, no doubt coming from the tube (honestly, woman, are you or are you not a witch?). I was anticipating her arrival, her inevitable delight in my choosing the right coffee blend, and the intellectual discussion ahead of us at the museum when, before my eyes, a gust of wind blew down the street snatching papers off of tables, twirling women's hair into blinding clouds of disarray, and twisting clothing into all manner of impedimenta. It also lifted her skirt farther above her knees than I had ever witnessed and displayed for me something I've never seen before and couldn't identify, but which was so visually delicious that it shot a bolt of heat straight to my groin with an interest I've not felt in many years, an interest which I've certainly never felt for this friend, this ex-student of mine.

It's not that I'm unaware of her being a woman. It's just that for once I've found a friend who values me for me, and not what they can get from me. It's so satisfying; I've not seen a reason to change the nature of our relationship.

My eyes were trained on her as she continued toward me, hands trying desperately to return her skirt to its rightful location, wildly blowing hair blinding her. I was willing the wind to gust again and give me another tantalizing glimpse of her legs so I might determine just what it was I had seen. Clearly she was wearing muggle clothing suitable for our afternoon in London. Her skirt fell below her knees and her shoes, though attractive, were not outrageous and were constructed with a low, sensible heel. A short, belted jacket concealed the rest of her outfit. She looked nice, not flashy or attention-seeking, just simple, appropriate, feminine.

My wishes were granted before she reached the corner when, in a moment of inattention, the wind swirled her skirt around her again giving me just a peek of black lace tightly gripping creamy white thighs. Limited as my intimate experience with women's feminine items is I possessed no ability to identify the visual delight before my eyes. My crotch tightened even further and I stood quickly, hands in pockets, trying to adjust my arousal before she reached me and could realize what I was doing. I could feel my cheeks growing red in mortification as I mentally blasted myself for responding like a randy teenager. So focused was I on my body's traitorous behavior that I didn't realize she had reached me until a warm body pressed to my side as she greeted me with her familiar words and embrace. Her touch incited such further constriction in my trousers I imagined the whole street could see my predicament.

I blindly pushed her cup into her hands, refusing to make eye contact, and withdrew with a mumbled excuse about having consumed too much liquid that morning. I could feel her curious eyes upon me as I slid into the shop and retreated to the lavatory to regain control over my libido. The unfamiliar emotion I was experiencing in ever increasing volume was making my head pound as hard as my heart was. At what point had I become attracted to and fallen in love with my friend Hermione Granger? And why hadn't I realized it before now?

This story is complete (or will be once I finish wrestling with the final chapter and get it beaten into submission). I'll be posting chapters (5 total) at regular intervals over the next few days. Wanna let me know what you thought of it?


	2. Chapter 2

**Hermione**

She had been looking forward to this day for a week now; none of her other friends had any interest in art and though she was pleased to hear this lecture, mostly she was looking forward to spending time with Severus. He had been so many things to her since she found out she was a witch: professor, warrior, protector, hero, mentor, occasional pain-in-the-ass, and most recently, friend. She felt she had sought and fought for his friendship more than she had worked for anything else in her life. The man was so difficult! But she was sneakier than he appreciated and she'd wound herself into his life before he'd realized there was no getting rid of her.

When she was his student she'd always admired his intellect and when she realized what he had sacrificed to be a spy in the war she'd admired his nobility and bravery. In truth, for most of her life he'd been a bastard to her but she figured she could forgive that in light of how he'd secretly suffered during that time. She was a ridiculously forgiving person, as the two morons she called "best friends" could attest.

Since winning his friendship (and, oh, what a day that was when he'd finally admitted she was his friend!) her personal time had improved brilliantly. Finally she had an intellectual companion she could talk to without having to dumb down her words. He'd apprenticed her in potions and now, as masters in the subject, they spent hours experimenting. Best of all, he truly listened when she talked. He cared about what she was saying. It made her feel treasured, valued. And it made him unbelievably attractive to her.

She had a secret, you see. She'd fallen in love with this man but had no idea how to tell him, how to suggest they expand their friendship into something more…intimate. She had very little experience with romance and love, though most of her friends were boys. She'd always been viewed as the brains of the group. Boys rarely saw her as a girl; she was more like a genderless, information-spewing know-it-all. It meant her self-confidence as a woman was practically non-existent.

Part of her problem was a result of always hanging out with boys. If she'd had more girlfriends she'd at least have people to go to for advice about clothes, and how to attract a man's attention. She wasn't sure her old professor could ever see her as more than someone he used to teach but she did know he enjoyed spending time with her. She knew he liked having a quiet afternoon reading together as much as she did. She just didn't know if he could ever love her.

She knew she was kind of hopeless in some ways. Her hair was the bane of her existence. Its natural state was utter chaos and she could only control it by spending absurd amounts of product and time on it and, honestly, she had better things to do. So she'd contain it in a knot or pull it into a braid and try not to think too hard about what her head looked like each day.

Her clothes were acceptable. She was not a fashion model, to be sure. She hadn't the body or the care for such things, but she did have a modest sense of style, though sometimes she wondered if she was too modest, too simple, too boring. One reason she dressed as she did was because she did not want attention drawn to her. She'd had enough of celebrity at the end of the war, thank you very much. Her life was her own and the last thing she needed was to have people noticing her again. But surely there was something she could do to feel a bit more attractive, without attracting unwanted attention?

It was the desire she felt for Severus that led to these uncommon (for her, anyway) thoughts about fashion and attractiveness. Somehow, she thought, she needed to find a way to make him see her as something more than just a friend, more than just a colleague. She wanted to make him see her as a woman.

It was with true humiliation and desperateness that she went to Ginny Weasley for advice. It turned out not to be such a bad idea after all.

For you see, Ginny introduced her to lingerie, undergarments of a kind Hermione had never seen nor realized existed. She was told, both by Ginny and by the woman at the lingerie store, that in order to make a man think of her as a woman she had to see herself as a woman. And the best way to do that was to feel like a woman, to feel sexy in her own body. She took their advice to heart.

Her wardrobe still contained sensible clothes, the kind that were comfortable and modest, but underneath them she now wore corsets, suspender belts, camisoles, teddies, and stockings. She'd tried thong underwear but realized quickly that it simply was not her style. Little lacy bikini briefs suited her just fine.

Her absolute favorite find was hold-up thigh-high stockings. They made her feel so feminine, silky and lacy as they were, and yet naughty at the same time because only she knew that the upper portion of her thigh, when wearing them, was still bare. Feeling that bit of naked skin slide against her skirt above the stockings gave her a delightful thrill. She definitely felt differently about herself when wearing them, more feminine and sexy. The question was would Severus recognize the difference in her?

She moved quickly down the sidewalk from the tube (yes, Severus would mock her if he found out she took muggle transportation that day) enjoying the teasing breeze that was blowing, particularly as it tickled certain bare areas under her skirt. When a big gust of wind came roaring down the street it took both hands to hold down said skirt. Battling her hair out of her face she could see the coffee shop just one block up ahead and quickened her pace.

There, she could see Severus just standing up from the table he'd been sitting at before shoving his hands in his pockets. He had two cups on the table; he'd already purchased coffee for her. She loved that he knew how she liked her coffee and went out of his way to get it for her when he could. Oh how she hoped this day would go well!

When she arrived at his side she wrapped her arms around his torso in the hug she'd insisted on giving in greeting and trilled her usual "Good morning!" Strangely enough he stiffened in her arms, much as he used to in the early days of forcing hugs on him. But he hadn't responded like that in months, since he'd given in and accepted her friendship. He shoved her coffee in her hands and slunk into the coffee shop, after mumbling something about using the loo. He hadn't even made eye contact when she arrived. What had she done wrong?

She reclaimed the table Severus had been sitting at and unobtrusively hit it his coffee with a warming charm to keep it the right temperature until he returned. She sipped at her own cup, savoring the perfect blend of flavors. He'd gotten it exactly right. Her eyes wandered into the coffee shop toward the back corner to which Severus had slipped and she wondered again if something was wrong. He'd relaxed around her so much of late. What could have caused such a reversal in his behavior? Or maybe she was reading too much into it and he really did have to use the loo before they went to the museum. Sometimes she over-thought things, she knew.

When he finally emerged from the shop and reclaimed his coffee she was disconcerted that he still refused to look at her. He must be upset about something, mustn't he?

So, wha'dja think?


	3. Chapter 3

**Severus**

He hid out in the restroom cubicle as long as he dared, thinking of the nastiest things he could imagine (bathing in flobberworms, Hagrid in a thong, his previous master – either of them, really - doing a strip-tease) until the strong-willed beast in his pants finally subsided enough to be seen in public. He spoke firmly to himself under his breath, reiterating the fact that Hermione was his friend and he would not spend the day lusting after her. Once he felt he was back in control of himself he exited the room and made his way to his companion, who was sitting at his previous table, staring at her coffee cup and gnawing her lower lip into ribbons, a sure sign of mental distress which he'd learned to identify early in their acquaintanceship.

Bugger it all. Had he blown it already? Had she caught sight of his arousal before he'd fled and now questioned the wisdom of being the friend of a lecherous old man? His anxiety and guilt made him stiff and awkward and, fearing what he might see were they to make eye contact, he quietly collected his coffee and suggested that they make their way to the museum.

She walked beside him, saying nothing and offering none of the gentle touches he'd grown accustomed to receiving from her. His heart clenched at the perceived loss and he stole glances at her out of his peripheral vision. She was frowning now, and her poor lower lip was swollen from the abuse of her nervous teeth. He felt miserable and disappointed at the demise of their easy camaraderie.

By the time they reached the museum they were in the midst of the most awkward silence that had ever occurred between the two of them. He hadn't realized how beautifully their easy conversation had flowed before, until it no longer existed. Even getting through the doors of the building became something of a challenge because he no longer felt he had the right to put his hand into the small of her back and guide her in ahead of him. His inward scowl was visibly present on the outside of his face now.

**Hermione**

The silence was the worst thing she'd experienced in Severus's presence in such a long time. It was excruciating. Hermione couldn't imagine what she'd done to make him so irritable but as they walked to their destination she observed him out of the corner of her eye and watched his famous glower appear and grow deeper with every block they traversed without speaking. Upon their arrival at the museum he seemed barely willing to open the door for her. She began to wonder if she should fake an illness and allow him to escape from her presence, since she was obviously the reason for his hostility that day. Perhaps he'd be in a better mood next week.

She began to wonder if he'd caught on to her secret. Was he so offended at the idea that she might fancy him as more than a friend that he couldn't stand to be in her presence any longer? Did she, as a woman, disgust him? Could he not get beyond the idea that she used to be his student and therefore was not open to the possibility of a romantic entanglement, no matter how obviously compatible they were? Her heart broke a little at the idea and she caught her breath in a silent sob.

He glanced her way at the bit of noise she'd made and she looked up at him, observing his scowl was firmly in place. He really couldn't stand her, could he? She closed her eyes against the thought of losing him, unable to bear the possibility that she'd ruined something good in hopes of obtaining something better.

Of course, with her eyes closed she never realized she was about to fall down a staircase. Nor did she see the look of terror upon Severus's face when he realized the woman he adored was only one step away from a very painful drop. At the last moment before she was beyond his reach his arms wrapped around her and dragged her tightly against his body. She knew nothing beyond the feeling of security at being held against the man she loved, that is, until he thrust her away from him with an epitaph of outrage.

Thoughts? Opinions? Suggestions? Nah, it's too late for suggestions, because this story is complete, baby! But I'd still like it if you'd tell me if you like it or not. Please?


	4. Chapter 4

**Severus**

Well of course he wasn't going to let her fall down the stairs. Pulling her against him was the best way to assure her safety. What he hadn't counted on was what he felt when his hands wrapped around her torso in the process of preventing injury.

He had no need to see what she wore under her clothes; his hands were absolutely certain they'd encountered the boning of a corset firmly enveloping that soft body. With the knowledge his hands obtained in that brief moment, his mind grabbed hold and presented a visual of her dressed only in the corset and the black lacy leg supporters he'd glimpsed earlier in the day. The resulting image dancing before his mind's eye was powerful enough to recover his previous erection twentyfold.

His reaction was to thrust the woman in his arms away from him as quickly as possible, so as to prevent her experiencing said erection personally. Accompanying the physical removal of her from his proximity was an exclamation which exited his mouth un-censored.

"Good lord, witch! Are you trying to torment me?"

Her warm brown eyes, which could go from bubbling with laughter one minute to narrowed and sharp in argument the next, were turned upon him, filled this time with confusion and uncertainty. Of course, she had no idea what she was doing to him but he was only a man and guilty of a man's failings.

"How am I tormenting you, Severus?" she asked softly, coming closer and resting her hand gently on his left forearm, the very arm which still carried the faint outline of his cursed dark mark. He knew she knew it was there; she touched him there on purpose as a silent way of telling him she didn't care about his past. His heart clenched at her familiar comforting action which warred in his mind against the sexual feelings for her he couldn't seem to thrust away. Her propinquity was throwing him into confusion, making him ache to gather her tightly to him again while at the same time creating a desperate need to get away from her presence, which was clouding his mind. He couldn't think; he couldn't reason. Feeling out of control made him cranky and loosened his tongue.

Mindful of the eavesdropping people around them (who were also quite curious to know how the "witch" was tormenting him) he dragged her to a private corner and leaned closer to prevent his words from being heard by anyone but her.

It might not have been wise to bury his nose in the apple-scented curls hanging over her ear but perhaps the olfactory stimulation distracted him sufficiently to forget to guard his words.

"You and those provocative clothes," he growled straight into her ear, which served only to melt the witch in his grasp. Her body took his tone to heart which meant her brain was a bit slower than usual at interpreting the meaning of his words.

**Hermione**

She leaned further into him, the heated rumble in his voice setting her nerve endings on fire. The moment her brain caught up to the conversation she jerked away from him and looked down at herself, wondering how he could possibly object to her modest wool skirt and jacket. Even her legs were covered, she reasoned, and her shoes were not in the least sexy but were, rather, chosen because they wouldn't make her feet hurt after wearing them all day through a museum. Only she knew she was wearing a green embroidered corset with matching green bikini briefs and black hold-up stockings but he didn't know about those so he couldn't possibly be complaining about them.

Could he?

She gestured to her skirt and jacket. "What's wrong with my clothes?" she asked. "I know they aren't traditional witch's robes but we are in muggle London. What did you expect me to wear today?" She put her hands on her hips, giving him a glare which told him he was an idiot without needing any additional words. "Besides you see me in muggle clothing all the time and have never objected before. Why are you complaining now?"

Her eyes widened when he deliberately stepped closer to her again, invading her personal space and reinserting his considerable nose into the curls above her ear.

**Severus**

"I know what you are wearing under your clothes, minx, and the knowledge is driving me mad." Her sudden intake of breath at his words made him smirk. "How am I to continue to react to you with any modicum of decency when my mind insists on providing me with mental pictures of you dressed only in the things you have hidden under your very modest, sensible wool?" he asked.

She blushed and poked him in the shoulder in protest. "You can't know what I have on under my clothes," she insisted. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"I saw and I felt," he replied, gathering her closer again, pinning poking fingers against his chest, "and my mind provided the rest. I know you are wearing a corset because I felt it when I prevented you from falling down the stairs and I know you are wearing something black and lacy on your legs because I saw them when the wind blew your skirt before you reached the coffee shop." He felt her swallow hard, her face pressed into his throat, just above the scar from the wound that almost ended his life. "The knowledge of such intimacies about you has had me fighting off arousal from the moment your skirt lifted in the wind and suggested to me that I've been overlooking something rather remarkable about you. You are a lovely woman, Hermione."

Holding her in his arms induced a remarkable calm in Severus, soothing him like never before. He pulled her backward a bit and then leaned forward himself, pressing his forehead against hers and feeling her stiffen up and tremble slightly at the contact. There, that was the sign that she was horrified by the idea of him being attracted to her. He breathed a sigh of resignation. "I apologize," he said, knowing he'd just ruined everything. "I know you don't want the attentions of a man old enough to be your father. On my honor I'll behave the gentleman today and we'll pretend like this conversation never happened, all right? Are you ready to proceed to our lecture?"

He studied the face so close to his, waiting for her to respond to his words, hoping she would agree to pretend he'd never spoken up, hoping against hope she wouldn't revoke her friendship. His heart sank when, instead of agreeing to pretend it never happened and going to the lecture, she shook her head "No".

**Author's Note: **Tee hee! So, what do you think?


	5. Chapter 5

**Hermione**

She pulled back from him and her eyes opened, searching his for knowledge of the truth behind his feelings for her. Whatever she saw must have been what she was looking for because she leaned forward and, unbelievably, pressed a soft, quick kiss against his lips.

"I don't want to pretend it never happened. I want to celebrate the fact that you see me as a desirable woman and I want to follow that line of thought and see where it leads." She studied his shocked face with a smile. "Don't you see? The things I am wearing I wore for you, even if you never ended up seeing them. I want you to desire me like I desire you." She took a deep breath for courage. "I find you desirable, Severus, very desirable."

He scoffed, muttering something about an old, ugly, miserable grouch. She covered his lips with hers again to shut him up.

"Silly man," she said. "Don't you know how greatly I admire your mind as well as your sense of honor and justice? And I very much appreciate your ability to tolerate me, especially when I'm in full know-it-all mode. Plus I like your nose. It's very noble."

**Severus**

He scarcely dared believe her but the truth shone from her eyes so blatantly that he could not ignore it. She wanted him. She really wanted him. He'd find time to ask questions later. Now was the time for action. He could not resist leaning down and kissing her again, his elation uncharacteristically visible. The feeling of her willing (enthusiastic, even!) lips beneath his own were stirring his heart in ways he'd not experienced in years.

When Severus pulled away, the sound of the people with them in the foyer of the museum brought his attention back to their surroundings. "I agree we cannot pretend there is nothing between us," he said, trying to catch his breath, "but at this moment we must make a decision. Shall we attend our lecture, as planned?" He paused briefly to stroke her cheek with his fingertips, still rather unbelieving he had the right to do so. He exhaled loudly as she turned her head to nuzzle her lips into his palm before continuing. "Or shall we do as you mentioned, and 'follow this line of thought and see where it leads'?"

Hermione did not answer him with words, but rather, after a long, lustful look that emphasized a tightening in both his heart and his trousers, took his hand and, lacing her fingers through his, led him back out the door and down the front steps of the museum. She began to walk in the direction they had just come from, toward her apartment building. Severus felt overwhelmed by the unexpected turn his day had taken.

"Are you certain about this?" he asked, pulling her to a stop in the middle of the block and turning her to face him. When she nodded her assent, her face aglow with delighted happiness, he said, "I feel like a blind man who's just had his eyes opened. And, oh, what wonders await this man who is finally seeing all the possibilities of his life for the first time." He pulled her into his arms for yet another kiss and allowed himself to step boldly into a future he never thought he'd have the opportunity to attain.

THE END

**Author's Note: **Fluffy ending, I know! Sorry; Severus wouldn't let me end it any other way. He really is a marshmallow inside that crusty exterior, you know? Tell me what you thought!


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